A BEAUTIFUL MYSTERY



The words I write often inspire more question than they answer.
I'm a mystery; a different person every day, 
yet locked away in my shell.
How could you ever really know me?

I'm an open book...if I trust you.
But trust is hard to come by.
Being vulnerable it too hard.
I can't be open to being hurt.

I've put the pieces of my broken heart back together too many times,
to give it to someone else to shatter .
It's careless on my part, but it's too late.
Broken trust can never really be repaired. 
Once it's broken, it will remain forever fragile, 
no matter how many words try to hold it together.

I'm careful with my words;
I don't talk much.
But when I put words to paper, they flow endlessly.
Sometimes you read more into those words than what is there.
Sometimes you don't read enough into them.
Just take it for what it is, in all it's black and white imperfection;
as imperfect as I am.
Just close your eyes and feel my words;
 imagine what inspired them.

You can't ever truly know someone, though,
even when they spill their deepest thoughts onto a blank canvas
and share it with the world.
It's only a fraction of what is in their inner world - in their soul.

We'll always be a mystery;
to each other, 
and at times, to ourselves.
What a beautiful and exciting blessing that can be.

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